


to be seen, to be held

by stag_von_simp



Category: RWBY
Genre: Canon Compliant, Hugging, Internal Conflict, Lots of musing, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Qrow loves his nieces, Volume 7 (RWBY), i think???, reference to alcoholism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:55:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24297706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stag_von_simp/pseuds/stag_von_simp
Summary: All James had said is this: it’s good to see you again.But Qrow could quote everything James keeps tucked inside, with just a glimpse of that gaze.--Or: Qrow spends what little time he's given in James's arms wishing for more.
Relationships: Qrow Branwen/James Ironwood
Kudos: 53





	to be seen, to be held

**Author's Note:**

> Or: An extension of the hug scene in Volume Seven, Episode Two!!!
> 
> Disclaimer, before I start: I haven't watched this episode since January or February, and I stupidly didn't rewatch the episode before I wrote this little mess. I tagged it as "canon compliant" simply because I think, since all we get from canon is the hug itself and nothing afterward, what I add probably (hopefully) works. I'm sorry if it's extremely NOT canon compliant, but I hope you can enjoy it anyway :D

“I meant it, when I said it was good to see you again.”

That’s all the general says before his arms twine around Qrow - who feels at first strangled, then confined, almost inclined to wrestle free of what might be a murder attempt, and then feels the astonishment ebb once he realizes what’s happening.

Oh, gods, it’s been so long since he’s been clutched like this. And James’s hold is quite a bit stronger now, what with the cords of muscle braiding up his arms that had not been there when they let themselves be loved by one another like this. A pang spears through Qrow, clean:  _ it should not feel this foreign. The love he’s been parched of should not make him feel afraid. _

Qrow’s hand settles in the valley between the general’s shoulder blades; faintly, he reprimands his own mind for naming this man General when he’s James. James like he’s always been. James with his false certainty, James with the furrow knotted tight between his brows,  _ James  _ with the strain at the sides of his smile. As a grin of his own squirms onto Qrow’s face, he conditions his mind to know James again _ (James James James James James _ , to Qrow, never just a general, never James for anyone but him). 

It’s hard, to match the arms from now to the arms from then. Harder than Qrow wanted it to be.

The hug only lasts a split second - or it would have, had time itself not chosen to trip and tumble into a ravine in the distance for however long Qrow’s chest is crushed to James’s again. Honestly, the hug might last hours, Qrow doesn’t know. 

No matter what, it ends too soon. Qrow feels his smile stutter, jerking into a disappointed frown before he can stop it. James drives his lips together until the color flickers out of them. Qrow comes dangerously close to plunging forward and kissing them until the pink returns.

He has never kissed James with a beard like  _ this _ , after all.

An idiotic voice in the back of his mind swoons at the thought. If the thought was corporeal, Qrow would swat it dead like a pest buzzing by his face.

_ Ugh. _

And he’d thought he’d finally staked his white flag on this emotional tug-of-war with James. 

“Sorry,” James coughs. “Um. That was out of line.”

“Shush,” Qrow says. “Seriously, don’t apologize. There’s no reason for that.”

James’s eyes dart away from Qrow’s, scrambling for a place to rest, it seems. Qrow clears his throat, and that does the trick; those eyes he wishes he loved a little less snap to his face, and there’s so many useless words stirring inside of them Qrow feels vaguely seasick just looking. 

All James had said was this:  _ it’s good to see you again. _

But Qrow could quote everything James keeps tucked inside, with just a glimpse of that gaze:

_ I missed you. I needed you. Where have you been? Are you still sick, Qrow? Still drowning in cheap spirits when you can help it, no matter how many times I demanded you stop? Are you alright? I still love you, love you, love you, and I’m willing to bleed for it, and I hate it. You hate it too, you must. I hope you hate it instead of me. Do you still love me, by the way? I‘m begging you to still love me. _

And that’s with just a stolen peek, just a step into those waters - no, scratch that, all Qrow’s done is dip a foot into the sea of mute little sentences that makes up James’s eyes, he’s not even wading yet, and already he’s choking on all of that.

He physically shoots back a few steps. This is why he can’t stand James; because after spending a second with him, he already knows the man better than anyone else again.

“Qrow,” James says. Qrow crashes back into his body, eyes soaring right back to James’s the second he’s clawed his way out of his mind. Qrow arches a brow, and James chuckles, as if Qrow isn’t waiting with bated breath for whatever beautiful thing James is about to say. 

He is sorely mistaken. Here’s all that James says:   


“Is there any particular reason you’re staring so intently?”

_ Because you have the prettiest eyes of any man in the universe, you asshole. _

“No reason,” Qrow replies, shrugging. “Just thinking.” And then, before he can plug them back, before he can just smack his lips together and stitch them shut and actively barricade against his own stupidity: “How are you doing? You know, handling all of this. How are you?"

A smile needles the corners of James’s mouth. His eyes plummet to his feet before he answers - before he scrapes Qrow’s heart aflame. “Better,” comes his reply, muffled by embarrassment, if the color staining his face can be trusted, “now that you’re here.”

Qrow can’t stop his mouth from ripping open, his jaw from dangling. “James--”

“I just had to say it,” James tells him, then: “I think, while you’re here, you should refer to me as General Ironwood. I’m not on a first-name basis with anyone else.”

“Oh.” Qrow doesn’t mean to sound so upset, he swears. “Yeah, sure, whatever you want.”

“Alright. Thank you. For, um...for coming. I’m sure you’re already aware of this, but your niece is brilliant. Both of them are, actually. It’s definitely a relief to have them here. And you.”

“You haven’t seen half of how brilliant they are,” Qrow says, and the corners of James’s eyes melt. “What are you smiling about?”

“When we were younger, you always assumed you weren’t capable of loving anyone like that. And yet, here you are, so proud of them. You’ve changed, Qrow. For the better.”

_ And who do you think showed me just how much I could love? _

“That’s a fact,” Qrow admits. “You’ve changed quite a bit yourself.”

Qrow is fairly sure James wanted him to miss the grimace that flashes across his face. Qrow, however, doesn’t miss a tic when it comes to James, and never has, and never will.

“Times of war tend to...tend to change people. I only hope your nieces and you don’t change too much. Not like I have.”

“The girls will be fine. They’re stronger than us, that’s for sure,” Qrow says - the words toll true, even if he sometimes wishes they didn’t. Wishes a rotten husk of a person like himself could even compare to Ruby or Yang, or their friends, or that little farm boy who hasn’t flinched once this entire time, even with another man withered somewhere inside of him. It seems James is now as empty, as crumbling as Qrow is. And Qrow hates that, oh, he  _ hates _ that even more than he hates the part of him that cares.

“Absolutely,” James says. “Now, um.” He clears his throat, sounding nearly ragged. “I suppose I should get back to work. Find Winter and the Ace Operatives, plot out our next move. I just couldn’t stand the thought of you not knowing how much your presence means.”

“Well, that’s why I came,” Qrow says, and by some miracle, the smirk he prays for blooms on his face just as he wanted it to. “It’s pretty clear that you need me around.”

“Oh, really? I thought I was hiding it well,” and James has never had an affinity for humor, so if he’s trying to be sarcastic it falls so pathetically flat Qrow wishes he had a second chance. 

As James clomps off in those heavy boots, Qrow hangs behind, face-to-face with the fact that he wishes James had a thousand second chances on more than just his lame attempts at humor, wishing he would  _ stop wishing for so much _ , and reeling.


End file.
